It Started With A Hex
by Torahamutaro-chan
Summary: It all started with a hex. Slash fic. HP/DM


Alright, this is a fic dedicated entirely to the premiere of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I saw the midnight showing, and it was alright. The book was much, _much_ better and they changed a lot of the story for the movie. Damn you, David Yates! -shakes my fist at him- Anyway, this is the prologue. For those of you who know me and my work, you'll remember that I was really ill recently and I'm still getting over it. That and the fact that, despite getting home from the movies at 4:00 a.m., I got no sleep. It's a miracle I stayed awake long enough to write anything even slightly coherent. Despite its slight crappiness, I sincerely hope you enjoy reading this.

Update: Sick again, and back to writing. Why do I always choose times of illness to work on this story? Anyway, I have lengthened this a bit to try and improve it. I don't have much else to say. This fever is addling my brain… Enjoy more.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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He didn't know how it had happened. Memories of shouted spells and flashing lights, then haunting silence filled his mind. Sectum Sempra. That was what had caused his rival to fall quiet, save for soft, pain-filled moans. He stepped shakily closer. "…Malfo-" His voice caught in his throat as he saw blood quickly coating the wet tiled floor, blood from the face, chest, and stomach of the boy he had just hexed. "Malfoy?" he asked softly, coming closer. When the boy did not respond, he began to panic. "Malfoy?" he asked louder, kneeling beside him, soaking his robes in blood. A soft gurgling sound came from Draco's throat, bloody bubbles dripping out of his mouth and down his chin. As the shock wore off, reality began to set in. "Oh god, Malfoy?! Malfoy!" He looked around, desperate for help. What was he supposed to do? What _could_ he do? Shakily, he stood and held out his wand, his voice wavering as he croaked out a nearly silent, "Wingardium leviosa."

He exited the room, levitating Draco ahead of him. As quickly as he could, Harry made his way up the familiar path to the infirmary, all the while chanting '_It's okay_' over and over, like a mantra, in his head. It was like he was having one of those nightmares. The ones in which you run and run and you just seem to go slower, like the floor is sucking your feet into it and won't let you go. He burst through the large wooden doors, setting Draco down on the bed he usually occupied. "Madame Pomphrey!!" Soon, a tired, harassed-looking witch made her way towards the main hospital wing. "Mr. Potter, what on earth are you-" She stopped mid-sentence when she spotted the injured youth on Potter's usual bed. Without a word, she rushed to fetch her tools and set straight to work. It took about an hour as Harry stood back, an icy panic gripping his entire body. When the head nurse was done, she looked towards him, opened her mouth, then, thinking better of it, closed it and walked to her rooms connecting to the back of the infirmary. Harry was grateful for the lack of questions, not feeling he had the strength or the sanity to answer them at the moment. Slowly he walked towards his sleeping rival, who was breathing steadily, body blood free. He summoned a chair from the other side of the room and sat down near his injured classmate's bed, watching him for any signs of relapse. After what seemed like hours of watching and worrying, Harry finally began to relax, leaning on the bed and staring at the Malfoy heir's face, taking in the more prominent features. He had known this boy for so long and yet had never looked at him properly. He looked so different without a sneer on his face. Seeing him this way, he seemed much more human. Realizing this, Harry's guilt spiked in his chest. He had hurt Malfoy, and not in the usual way; he had nearly killed this person, this fellow human being, and he felt horrible about it. As much as Harry despised Draco, he would never hurt him in such a way. Before he knew it, tears were streaming down his cheeks and he was whispering to the sleeping boy.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"

Harry didn't notice the man looking in on them from the shadows of the doorway, and before he could, he was gone.

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Draco awoke with a massive headache. He felt as though someone had taken a pipe to his skull. Not the most enjoyable way to great the day, or in this case night. He looked around, blinking to clear the sleep from his eyes. The room smelt of antiseptic, so it was a safe bet he was in the infirmary, but how had he gotten there? Last he remembered, he had been dueling Potter in the girls' bathroom. He remembered how the whole thing had started as well…

X

"_Malfoy?"_

_Draco quickly wiped his face and turned to glare at the other boy. "What do you want, Potter?"_

_The Gryffindor seemed at a loss for what to do. He averted his gaze a few moments before looking back at him. "Are you alright?"_

"_What do you care?"_

_After a few moments of silence, the other replied. "Well you're obviously upset about something."_

"_It's none of your business!"_

"_Just tell me. I'm not going to laugh at you."_

"_Why should I trust you? You hate me."_

_Potter looked down. "It's true, I'm not fond of you, but that doesn't mean I'd laugh at your pain."_

"_Like I believe that. You and your friends would just love to have leverage over me."_

"_I wouldn't tell them. It would just be between us."_

_Draco was getting nervous now. Should he trust the other boy? Did it even matter? Anger boiled beneath his skin. "No, now get out!"_

_He aimed his wand and the first curse was shot._

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They had fought and he had fallen. What curse had been used? It had felt as though he was split in two, a ripped ragdoll lying on the floor, clinging desperately to the string of life as it slipped, inch by inch, out of his grasp. He shivered in remembrance of the cold. But he wasn't cold now. Actually, he was quite warm, particularly on his left side. He sat up slowly and looked down. What he saw surprised him. A black dog was snuggled up to his side on the bed.

"What on earth..?"

The dog whimpered at his voice. Was it hurt?

"Mr. Malfoy, good to see you're awake," came the voice of Madame Pomfrey close by.

Draco looked up at the witch as she cautiously felt the air around him.

"Um… What are you doing, Madame?"

"Checking for a barrier."

"Why would there be a barrier around me? Was my magic acting as a shield?"

"Well it was magic, but not yours. Mr. Potter here," she indicated the dog, "has been standing guard over you for nearly three days straight. He hasn't let anyone but Professor Snape and myself see you. His shields block anyone he doesn't know and trust fully."

Draco raised an eyebrow. '_Potter trusts Severus?_' He left that thought for another time. "Madame Pomfrey, why would Potter guard me?"

"He seemed worried about you. I think he was trying to keep you from harm."

The young man had no response to that. He simply lay back and indicated the healer to check him over, which she did rather quickly.

"I'm happy to say you're back to full health. You can leave in the morning."

Draco thanked the mediwitch and settled back down on the bed. He stared down at Potter, his fur as black as his hair and the scars in all the right places, indicated by lighter colored fur. Even his famous lightning bolt was there, a deep shade of crimson on his otherwise unmarred head. Draco had to admit, Potter made a handsome dog. He unconsciously began petting him and before he knew it, he was falling back asleep.

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And there is the very short and not very good prologue. I just wanted to post this as quickly as possible for the premiere day. I'll most likely come back and rewrite it when I'm feeling less sniffley and drowsy.

Update: Please review and tell me if you like it better now. Thank you.


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